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  POWER IS IN OUR HANDS “Look at that aunty and the other bike, race and go there” these were the words that I heard from a young child seated on the front side of a bike at a busy traffic signal. The man whom I assume should be his father, quickly moved a few feet away from the stop line and waited ahead of the others.  How many of us teach our children basic things nowadays? Our lives have become so fast-paced, with hundreds of channels and innumerable entertainment at our disposal. We have no time to even talk to our kids, which brings in the fear of how our next generation would be. Just imagine, the ’80s and the ’90s kids, we were told every now and then ‘don’t do this’ ‘don’t go there’, ‘you are not allowed to watch this’, so many restrictions, which I felt was a hindrance then. But now, I feel it’s the rock-solid foundation that my parents have given me.  Today, I am a mother of twin boys, at times when I read in the newspaper that young adolescent boys, rape a...
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Reminisance

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Julia stepped inside the cosy hotel room in Nuwara Eliya, Srilanka. It was a place which Julia and her husband Raj loved. It was the place which they chose for their honeymoon. 30 years have passed since then; their kids Ron and Becky were mature enough to handle themselves now. This was a much-needed trip or maybe her last trip, the host of diseases that she had may not permit her to travel again. Raj reminded her to take her medicines before lunch. They visited Lake Gregory, a place which had many memories. They sat and talked nothing, but just admired the sprawling vast water body. She spent the most wonderful 3 days of her life that she could cherish even on her deathbed. On the last day of her trip, she smiled at Raj and thought, I loved this trip. The lady at the reception thanked her and cleared her bill, while Julia walked alone to her cab, carrying her favourite book ‘PS I love you'. Love and fate can never be predicted.
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Her Dance

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Young moon shining cool and bright, Hypnos singing lullaby with his harp, Form of my partner’s loud snores, Chill breeze from my air conditioner, And my soft feather bed, Thus, are my comfort to slumber.   As I rest and dream, Like a princess with glass shoes, And beautiful gowns, There she stands like a beast, As a hassle uninvited, But prompt.   Nay! not a smothering snake or a ghoul, It’s mine own, Without which a women’s beauty is lost, Like wine, ages with time, Long or short, brown or black, rough or smooth, Always a thing of pride, for a woman.   My mane, when all sleeps blissfully with me, One bunch stands, And dances its heart out to my fan’s tunes, Though her stage is always fixed, She lands on my temple or nose, Tickles me to watch her dance. My relentless attempts to stop her, Always a failure and poof! vanishes my sleep, And along with it my glass shoes and gowns, Alas! Wish I could stop her!
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